


Same Auld Lang Syne...But Is It Really the Same

by Wintercameandwent



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Christmas Eve, Christmas Music, Don't Like Don't Read, F/M, Fluffy Ending, Inspired by song: Same Auld Lang Syne, Modern Westeros, NOT a bashing fic, No ship tag, POV Rhaegar Targaryen, Past Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen, Romance, We stan Elia in this house, You'll just have to read..., but Rhaegar can stay if he behaves right, song-fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:09:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28079706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wintercameandwent/pseuds/Wintercameandwent
Summary: Musician Rhaegar Targaryen bumps into an old flame at the grocery store.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29
Collections: Southern Renaissance (Dorne Renaissance)





	Same Auld Lang Syne...But Is It Really the Same

**Author's Note:**

> This is a holiday fic based on Dan Fogelberg's song, Same Auld Lang Syne. The song ends a bit ambiguously so I thought I would add on a what-if assuming Rhaegar wrote the song. 
> 
> This song is a Christmas standard in the USA. If you've never heard it before I suggest you listen to it first before you read the story.
> 
> https://youtu.be/jwtkZ7oTv1o

It was Christmas Eve, and Rhaegar Targaryen decided he wanted this favorite brand of shortbread cookies. They were a store-bought type he remembered his mother buying for him around Christmas when he was a boy. Slipping out of his townhouse in the Upper Rhaenys Hill of Kings Landing, he thought he could make it to the late-night supermarket before it closed. 

With 15-minutes to spare before its 10 pm closing, Rhaegar snagged a box...or three and placed them in his basket. A last-minute decision to pick-up caramel syrup took him towards the grocery store's ice cream section. Searching the shelf, as his eyes drifted over different types of cones and toppings, he found the brand he was looking for. Placing the item in his basket, Rhaegar looked up to see a familiar figure. 

He couldn't believe his eyes. Was this really her? It had been maybe 14 years since they last saw each other. No, this was her, for he spent many nights in his youth studying her profile as she slept when they would spend the night together. Not his first lover, but no less memorable. Lyanna Stark had been special to him.

Slowly he walks towards her as he took in the expression floating across her face. He could always see the internal debates she would have because her face revealed all when she thought no one was watching. As he peeked over her shoulder, he could tell that the great debate was over vegetables—carrots versus broccoli.

Gently Rhaegar touched her on her sleeve. She turned around, but she hadn't recognized him at first. When she did, though, her eyes flew open as her gaze flooded with awareness. 

"Oh, my Gods, Rhaegar," Lyanna exclaimed as she reached over to hug him. Clearly losing thought of the purse that she held under her arm, the bag fell and came undone as a few contents fell on to the ground. The ridiculousness of the moment made us both laugh, leaving both of us to carelessly wipe tears from our eyes. 

We stood up as the store worker made the last call for customers to check out. Making small talk as we waited to be totaled up and bagged. A tabloid paper was on the rack. A full cover of me on a yacht with the title, _"Is Rhaegar Targaryen Leaving the Kingsguard?"_ with smaller captions that read, _"Arthur Dayne and Rhaegar Targaryen have a knock out brawl in the studio"_ followed by _"Is there truth to the rumor that there is a woman that comes between the two best friends."_

Rhaegar noticed Lyanna's eyes skim the cover. A color rose over her cheeks as she quickly tried to avert her eyes. Rhaegar could feel the uncomfortable pull of embarrassment that usually overtakes him when his eyes catch on a tabloid paper. We soon found ourselves outside of the store. 

"It's been a long time, Rhaegar. It was so great to see you." She took a look at her own watch. "I know it's late, but perhaps you might be up for a drink or two."

I took a quick look at my watch, and I knew though it late, my home would be empty should I return to it now. Thinking it little harm and truly curious about the path her life took after all these years, I agreed. 

"Yeah. Sure. I'm good with that. I thought I saw a bar down the block on my way here. Maybe it's still open."

We walked to the bar, but unfortunately, it was closed. As was every other bar within walking distance, which Google Maps recommended.

It seemed that perhaps this reunion was at an end as I walked Lyanna to her car. As she placed her grocery bag in the trunk of her sleek silver BMW, we both noticed that the liquor store across the street was open. We looked at each other, and a silent conversation was had, just as we used to communicate when we were in college. She nodded, as did I, and together we walked to the store. We brought a six-pack—a better brand than we would buy during our university days, and we drank it in her car. 

I popped open my bottle and settled into a comfortable position in the passenger slide. The seat was pushed back, so whoever sat here had legs just as long as mine. 

"So, how are you, Lya? It has truly been an age." I noticed her soft smile as she averted her gaze from mine. After all these years, she was so lovely to look at, he thought.

"I'm good. I truly have nothing to complain about. I guess. I married Robert Baratheon. Do you remember him?"

I tried to control my expression, but I was surprised to hear she had married the man her father (and brothers) had encouraged her to date. Her family was never a fan of me. They thought a music major with minors in philosophy and poetry would not be an acceptable partner for their daughter. If he were honest, that pressure did play a part in why they went their separate ways.

"Wow. Robert. I...I guess I wasn't expecting that. What is he up to these days?"

Lya released a small laugh as she shook her head, enjoying his reaction. 

"He's good. Doing what he loves best? Surprisingly Robert followed through and became an architect. He does really well, better than I think either one of us expected. A handy skill as I know he will always keep me warm, safe, and dry."

Rhaegar listened to her and remembered the young woman she once was. Lya was an adventurous spirit and so very audacious. Though there are times he thinks of her since they chose to walk different paths, a part of him hoped she would find love and happiness—for he loved her enough to want her to have those things. She was a woman who needed love, but there were times he felt that his love wasn't enough and that he lacked in some way. Perhaps it's why he strove so hard to make them work even when those closest to him thought they were destined to fail—and they had. 

"Robert is a lucky man to be loved by you."

Lyanna sighed into her bottle. He noticed she hadn't drunk much as he was now ending his second drink. 

"I would like to say I love Robert, but I don't like to lie. We both went the route of no children. You know how I felt about that." She chuckled as she pulled at the label on her bottle. "

"Robert and I have an understanding, Rhae." Rhaegar noticed how easy it was for her to slip into an old endearment. 

"I get certain things from him and he from me. It's not a romantic marriage, but we are building something together, and I guess that accounts for something, does it not?"

Rhaegar took a final pull from this bottle to buy himself time to respond to her. Her words were sad. A sensitive person is what Rhaegar had always been. Part of it is his nature, he thinks, but he'd be a fool to think growing up with an abusive father didn't impact him in some way. Rhaegar had sharpened his senses to see and react to emotions others simply took for granted from an early age. Avoiding Lya's question, he nodded instead. 

Rhaegar decided to change the course of their conversation as he opened the next bottle. 

"The years had been a friend to you, Lya. Your eyes are still as gray as I remember."

A saw a shadow hover over her eyes as her gaze met mine. But as we stared at each other, I was sure if, in her eyes, I saw doubt or gratitude. She released another sigh that seemed to echo so loudly in the car. 

"So, I saw your latest album drop on Amazon Music. This is what? Your sixth album in 12 years. You and your band must be doing well."

Rhaegar laughed at that. Gods, his recording and tour schedule was hectic. While he loved what he did. He felt most connected to what was important and sane when he was in the home he made for himself. Where he could trust what was real. Just add in the company of his guitar or piano, and he was a luckier man than most—and he knew it if sometimes that awareness faded to the back of the craziness that was his life. 

"I can't complain regardless of what the market tabloids say. We are good. I am good. The audience is heavenly, but the traveling was Hell."

They both took another sip, she of her first bottle and he of his third. We chatted about work as a horse breeder in the Stormlands, where she and her husband resided in his husband's family home. 

Then the conversation shifted to her brothers and their families. 

Her eldest brother, Warden Brandon Stark, carried on the family tradition of politics and married a socialite, as was expected. He and his wife Catelyn Stark (nee Tully) had three children named Sansa, Brandon Jr., and Rickon.

The brother he remembered seeing the most on-campus was Ned, who was good friends with her husband, became a career military man, and married one of his childhood friends—a Mormont, Dacey was her name. They had a son named after her husband, but they called him Robb, and a daughter named Arya-Lyanna.

She was still very close to her youngest brother Benjen. He became a ranger up North, where the Stark family name reigned supreme. He was happily married to an elementary principal by the name of Howland Reed.

Her father's death last year has made this being the first family Christmas without him--and all the Starks, by birth or marriage, were making their way to Winterfell by Christmas Day. She and Robert were set to take a private jet to Winter Town.

As the topics shifted to him, Rhaegar admits to keeping some distance. The need to reconnect with this woman, who he thought his greatest love, just wasn't enough for him to share the most vulnerable parts of himself. No, not anymore, it seems. He let that awareness settle as his gaze swept over her once more. Gods, she still had the power to make his breath shutter—the power of youth and love.  
Rhaegar talked a bit more about his latest concert in London just two nights ago. Lyanna gave her condolences on the loss of his father—as the real estate magnet's death made the news 10 years ago. Still, they both knew that was a platitude as she knew how strained his relationship with his father was and why it was so. 

He then spoke of his mother and her new marriage to a man Rhaegar approved very much. 

"Bonifer makes my mother shine. I could want for nothing else. He had been a real father to my brother and sister. I count myself lucky that he is a good step-father to me. He's genuine in his care, you know."

Lya smiled as she nodded in understanding. He never had that with his own father.

As I shared my brother's Visery's decision to major in law, we laughed at how different two brothers could be. My sister at 12, well, she was like most 12-year-olds, he thought—as her awareness of boys was beginning to rear its ugly head. Shaking his head, Rhaegar tried to suppress the dread, and at that moment, he could hear a laughing feminine voice telling him, _"This is a part of life, Rhaeg, so brace for it."_

After a while, there was no more beer, and Rhaegar found himself tired and running out of things to say. He could sense the same was true for Lyanna if the recent subtle checking of her watch was an indication. Taking her most recent delicate time check as an opening, Rhaegar moved to leave.

"Lyanna, it's late, and you still have to get home. Gods, I hadn't thought of the time. I am so sorry to have kept you. Are you driving back to the Stormlands now?"

"Oh, it's fine. This meeting was worth any inconvenience that may come. I'm staying at the Armory Hotel. Robert is flying on a red-eye from Norvos. We are flying out of Kings Landing International. Can I give you a ride home?"

Shaking his head, Rhaegar declined.

"Are you sure?" She gently pressed. 

"Yeah. I'm not far. You though, you should be on your way."

Lya nodded as she reached up and pushed a rope of his long silver hair behind his ear. They both stared at each other as small smiles pulled at their lips. She releases one more sigh before she leaned over to place a gentle kiss on his cheek. They both reach out, giving each other a tight hug. Sharing one more last look before he opened the door against the cold wind as the icy air stole some of the warmth from inside the car. 

Holding the bag of treats that sent him out on this cold Winter night, Rhaegar watched Lyanna drive away. He could have accepted her gesture of a ride, for he didn't sense anything more than her friendly desire to keep him out of the cold on Christmas Eve. His home, though, was what he protected from the outside world. Lyanna—as much as she held so much of his youthful past...his mind saw her as she once was—freshmen orientation, Greek parties, days in the library, nights in each other dorm room, walks hand in hand around campus as they loved and dream about what life could be like. But she was now part of the outside. That awareness heartened him even if there was a touch of melancholy with that acceptance. 

Turning, Rhaegar walked down the street, making his way back home as the snowflakes that fell on his woolen coat turned into rain...

*****

After making a couple of lefts and rights turns, he found his way back to his Kings Landing residence. He took a quick peek at his watch, and it was almost midnight. He thought perhaps by now he this place would feel like home.

He pressed a sequence of buttons to turn off his alarm. As he entered through the foyer, the first thing he noticed was the silence. It was comforting in its own way. The quiet felt different from the type of dissonance you get when you walk into a hotel room. Since he and Arthur made it big, they rarely have the chance to spend Christmas in a property they own. A hotel usually fit the bill, but his year, they pushed their record company to put a long enough break into their tour schedule to allow them this. 

After 12 years of hits, they earned their latitude—and if Rhaegar was honest, he was sure their manager and Arthur's lover, Cersei Lannister, scared them enough to back off on this request. Rhaegar thinks she might have been incentivized to spend her holiday at home with Arthur since her twin brother had a daughter, that he and his wife Brienne, named Cersei. A crazy mess Casterly Rock would be like all the Lannisters—Cersei, Jaime, and Tyrion lovers, partners, and children all descended on her father's home.

Carefully checking that he re-engaged the alarm, he slowly began the ascent upstairs. As he got to the top of the landing, he notices the bedroom door to the right was wide open. Walking towards the room, Rhaegar poked his head in. Interesting, he thought. The open door wasn't all that unexpected, he supposed. Closing the door, he continued down the hallway. He passed another door that was slightly ajar. Once again, Rhaegar peeked into the room to find the space much like he left it before he left. A third door was closed just as he had left it before.

Take a deep sigh of his own, he made his way up another flight of stairs to the master bedroom, a space that took the entire square footage of the top floor; Rhaegar smiled. He knew it was extravagant, but he cherished the space and had no real qualms paying for it when told to write the checks. The twin pocket doors were wide open at the top landing just as he had left them before. Walking through, he took off his coat as he saunters in what would be best called a living room or lounge and drops his jacket onto the arm of a couch. 

The townhouse was warm, and it made Rhaegar, who ran hot to uncomfortable for the winter Henley he was wearing. Pushing up his sleeves, he wanders quietly to the French doors that defined the spaces of sleep and play. As he makes his way to the door, a sharp exhalation takes all the breath in his body. 

There in his bed laid his wife. Her curly hair splayed across her pillow, and her face carried a small smile even in her sleep. She laid on her back with their five-year-old son, Aegon, sleeping against her left side as her arm held him protectively close to her. Rhaegar found himself holding back a laugh—his body trembling in exchange for remaining silent, as he saw his eight-year-old daughter, Nymeria-Rhaelle sleeping with her head towards her mother's knees gently snoring as her small, slender feet laid reclining on his wife's shoulder right.

A small murmur from the small crib to the left of the bed caught his attention. Rhaegar quickly made it to their youngest child—a boy only a year old. Thinking him awake and hoping to catch him before he cried, Rhaegar noticed his son, Mors, wasn't truly awake but in that blurred state of sleep and wakefulness. After three children who were remarkably different, the one thing Rhaegar could do that worked to put them all to sleep at this age was to gently rub two fingers on their foreheads and over the bridge of their noses. As he did just that, Mors fell back to sleep. 

Turning back, he saw the dark eyes of his wife Elia Martell, looking back at him. A wide smile at her lips. 

"Welcome home, babe," Rhaegar whispered as he leaned over to kiss his wife.

"It's good to be home," Elia murmured. 

"I was surprised to find you gone." She sighed, then turned her head to see their daughter's feet. He couldn't help but share a look with his wife as they both shook their heads. She was a funny one, their eldest.

"I went to get some shortbreads. I might have run out." Sitting beside their son, Rhaegar whispered as he leaned over to pick up a curl that laid on his wife's shoulder. 

A quiet laugh left his wife. 

Not one to keep secrets from her, Rhaegar thought about his evening.

"You'll never guess who I saw at the store."

"Hmmm. Who?" 

Rhaegar could tell the effects of a late-night flight from Dorne with three children had taken much of her energy. He told her they could have spent the holiday in Dorne since Elia was there with the kids to see her niece Arianne perform in her school Christmas pageant. Her response was a resolute no. Even though she gave the one helper they had off for the holidays, she had insisted on coming back to _their_ home after the performance. 

"Lyanna Stark."

Rhaegar let that sink in, and boy did it ever. His wife's sleepy eyes shot open in surprise. 

"Seriously?"

"Yes. I ran into her at the frozen section at the grocery store."

"Small world..." Elia's voice trailed off. 

Rhaegar shared how they caught up. He even rolled his eyes a bit as she teased him for getting into the car with an ex-love.

Shaking his head, Rhaegar leaned down to kiss his wife—because he loved her and was grateful that the Gods had placed her where they had 13 years ago, which was at one of his mother's fundraising committees for a group of not-for-profit community reading programs. Elia, a rising young adult novelist at the time, was there with her own mother, who happened to be a good friend to his. 

While in theory, they would have balked at a familial setup, both he and Elia took solace in comradery not to give in as their mothers didn't even bother to hide their designs to set up their children. What started out as solidarity to thwart their mothers morphed into friendship, which turned into love. The rest—what they became like as a couple, well, it just got better with time and something he was deeply invested in protecting regardless of what the tabloids say. 

Elia and his children were his home. He safeguarded who they were, even to those ones might consider an old friend. He did so unshakingly and without reservation, for he was blessed with this life and would never take advantage of it nor lose sight of it.

Changing into his Christmas pajamas, Rhaegar crawled into bed, with his son between them. He leaned over once again and gazed at his wife. Rhaegar was secure enough to recognize that while Lyanna Stark may still have the power to make his breath shutter, it was Elia Martell that could bring him to his knees. It was a feeling he wanted to have for the rest of his life. He also knew that he was more than enough with Elia as he was no matter what his father tried to ingrain into him. Gods only know what kind of mercurial man he could have been chasing a ghost's approval to prove he was more than the old man said he was. Elia loved him regardless of the imperfections he was sure existed in spades, and having that love meant everything to him. 

Rhaegar rose a hand to cup her face as he slowly rubbed his lips against his wife's before she stole his breath with a single blistering kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> :) Happy Holidays!!!!


End file.
